


Day 232

by PhunkyBrewster



Category: The Mindy Project
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, I Don't Even Know, Romance, The number of stories was alarming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 17:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3143318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhunkyBrewster/pseuds/PhunkyBrewster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'll be spending the next 232 days apart. One-shot. Mindy/Danny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 232

**Author's Note:**

> As I write this there are 666 stories in the TMP fandom and I can't handle that.

They’ll be spending the next 232 days apart.

Danny lets the number roll around his tongue for a few minutes, hardening and softening the Ts depending on how bad or “meh” he wants that number to sound. Occasionally he switches up the emphasis to see if he can dull the reality a bit (“ _Two_ hundred and thirty-two…nah, it’s just two hundred and _thirty-two_ … Damn, two _hundred_ …”), but he can’t quite get it to sound like anything but the majority of 2015. His newest patient – young, very eager first time mother – moans about how her remaining seven months of pregnancy feel like a lifetime away. When he tells her that it’ll go by quicker than she realizes, she beams with relief and nods. He feels a slight ping of envy as she bounces out of the office with a much friendlier outlook on time than he has. _It’ll be quick...no, it’s gonna be a long one…_

* * *

 

She’s 214 days away from reporting back home with a new wealth of knowledge.

 

The weight of her textbooks in her tote scream “THIS IS NOT ENOUGH FUCKING TIME, GORGEOUS!” and Mindy’s beginning to believe it. It’s not a matter of understanding the information. She understands just fine. It’s a matter of retaining such a complex medicinal development, then coming home to the expectation that she will be enough of an expert to teach this to her students _and_ colleagues. Eight months sounded like such a long time while she was packing. She thought it sounded damn near impossible whenever she and Danny were in bed. Now it seemed mercilessly short and she can’t decide what she wants more: less time between now and the moment she can cling to him for good, or more time for her to blossom into the all-knowing fellowship slayer known as Mindy Minaj. Her inner debate is interrupted by what feels like the six-hundredth hiss-filled discussion of some nearby strangers, which is probably app-related. It seems like _everyone_ is trying to develop an app here and they _all_ sound terrible. One that she overheard (which she found pretty hilarious in and of itself. “I can hear everything you’re saying , you dopes! You’re lucky I know dick about programming or I’d be Zuckerberging the fuck out of you guys!”) included some sort of poll that would allow users to vote for the best menu items locally, like the city’s best pizza. Instead of pizza, though, it was entirely vegetarian and vegan. She could see Danny shaking his head in disgust. It was such a clear image. In that very moment, she missed him the most.

* * *

In 172 days, Mindy would be back and rearranging his entire bathroom once again.

He missed her more than he could ever express, but he liked his ability to find everything. The shaving cream was in the medicine cabinet where it was supposed to be and **not** in the shower. His deodorant lasted longer. The avalanche of sweet smelling shampoo and conditioner bottles that use to threaten each shower was no longer an issue. He wouldn’t call it nice, but it was all convenient. He couldn’t think of two other people that were less suited to share a bathroom. When he tears down that wall between this apartment and the other, that second bathroom will be exclusively hers.

That hesitance still looms a little. It was a scary thought, tearing down that wall. But he had torn down so many with her already. What’s one more?

He quickly assesses his inability to pull that attitude off. _What’s one more?_ It’s everything, and that’s terrifying. But it’s also what he truly wants.

* * *

151 days seem like a breeze when she’s naked in her tiny bed with the love of her life.

When he’s trailing his calming fingertips up and down her spine, and her cruddy lamp is casting low light over his lazy smile, the hill seems like a much more manageable climb. Visits like this are the key. This is how they’ll get through this whole thing relatively unscathed. They’ll just do this every weekend. Danny’s loaded, so it’s totally plausible! He’ll just spend his week at the practice, schedule all his surgeries for Wednesday, take a Friday afternoon flight, and before too long they’ll be back together, bashing quinoa and having inconsiderately loud sex. She’ll even be fair and take on some of the visits herself. Yes, this plan is as reasonable as it is essential. It’s the most beautiful lie she’s told herself in a long time.

* * *

He was kidding himself if he honestly thought they could go 133 days without a fight.

What makes this worse is that he’s not even sure how they ended up here. She was talking so excitedly about what she was learning and he was genuinely ecstatic for her. He heard the name Mindy Minaj, he expressed his standard out-of-touch confusion, she explained, he called it ridiculous and suddenly their tones were so much firmer and his defenses were up. Now he’s explaining that _of course_ he takes her seriously and “how can you honestly think that I don’t, Mindy?!” She presents her evidence, which he’ll admit does not make him look great. A part of him thinks that some of the residual stress has her on edge, but he knows better than to put all of this on that. Some of this is him and he can’t deny it. But it’s not because he doesn’t believe in her, it’s because he **knows** how phenomenal she is. So does Jean. And so does the next person that’ll have the power to offer her everything she’s ever dreamed of professionally and the space **that** person puts between them could potentially be much more permanent. It chills him. But she doesn’t need to know that right now.

“I _know_ you can do this, babe,” he says into the receiver. “I _do_ know. I’m sorry that I wasn’t clear.”

* * *

She’s going to actually miss this burger place in 116 days.

Mindy’s been defending the burgers in New York within an inch of her life. Then Marta and Devon insist that they take the shortest of study breaks for a pilgrimage to Gus’s Burgers and Shakes (with their books in tow). They take Devon’s comically tiny car and head seven minutes south of the library to a packed stand that houses benches upon benches of chomping, vocally satisfied patrons. Marta, that tiny ruthless woman, snags a free bench while Mindy and Devon bring back the food. Mindy takes her first bite and moans in a way that easily conveys ‘I was wrong. I was _so_ wrong.’ Devon shares a story about a fight he witnessed between a burly biker and a guy dressed as a mime over the last batch of sweet potato fries. Mindy and Marta laugh until they’re snorting. The study buddies each exchange food-related tales, all reeking of desperation and humor.

It was a fun day.

* * *

107 days from now this will seem like an impossible feat that would never happen in real, actual life.

But for now, Danny is partaking in an office outing without any prompting or much convincing. He’s actually at a bar with his meddling coworkers and…it’s great. And weird. And Beverly is _really_ a mystery, but she’s got more interesting stories than anyone he’s ever known, all serving as evidence that the practice needs to run a much tighter background check on potential employees. Jeremy has requested Danny’s wingman services before leaving the office (which led to a few hurt looks from Morgan, but he’s recovered nicely) and he readily accepted. McMillan’s Pub is not fertile ground tonight, however, which makes matters more difficult. After a while Jeremy gives up and resolves to just enjoy this time with his ‘chums.’ Danny’s actually alright with that.

* * *

Mindy began to lose count of how many days she had left, but she guessed it was around the area of 98.

This time she was at a real bash; one with a keg, loud music she just _had_ to Shazam, horned up couples, and a smug, guitar-laden basic sitting by a bonfire while he tries to impress other basics with his version of Wonderwall. Take that, fucked up acronym!

This beefy young thing in the dark jeans and fitted blazer simply will not take his eyes off of her. It’s flattering, she can’t lie. When he does cross the room to talk to her, he confidently introduces himself as Mavis. Then it feels too real. She panics, throws out the name Chloe and lets him know that she is a happily involved, successful doctor and **must** go. She’s calling a cab and waiting on the curb next to a very drunk, very sad girl who alternates between sobbing and vomiting. She acknowledges (to herself, silently) that she is just way too old for this shit. She can’t wait to call Danny and tell him. She misses his gloating.

* * *

They’ve been in the double digits for a little while now, but 88 days still makes his heart soar.

It feels even better because he’s in an okay place, emotionally. He’s in Staten with Richie and his mother, who looks disturbingly more youthful. Her boyfriend is making her happy, clearly, and that is great…but still makes Danny feel uneasy.

But the important thing is that he’s surrounded by (some of) the most important people in his life. Richie looks better, but is still the subject of much coddling. Annette asks about Mindy and actually admits that she misses her just a little bit. He makes a note to tell Mindy that. She’d be delighted to hear it.

Annette quickly follows that up with an observation regarding Catholic women making much better mothers. He immediately decides to leave that part out.

* * *

“Danny, don’t tell me we only have 70 days left! How about actually acknowledging some of my concerns here?”

“No, Mindy, I’m not going to tell you again that I was not flirting with her, nor was she with me. You heard me the first hundred times! Plus, you were standing right there!”

“Oh yes, I _must_ be crazy. You’d _never_ allow another woman to flirt with you in front of me. I guess your tryst with your Barb Gurglar and her meandering foot was in my head. My mistake!”

“How is that even fucking fair?! _I didn’t know_ -“

“I’m just saying that maybe you could be a little less oblivious and speak up when some skank drenched in Mariah Carey’s perfume practically _sits in your lap_ -“

“-She fell! We both saw her – look. Baby, _baby_ , c’mon…”

He sits her on the hotel bed. Even in her rage, she’s impressed by the softness of the pillow top mattress. The shiny bedspread, however, is less impressive. She’d rather look at that than him right now.

“Min,” he urges. That damn firm plea of his…no, she’s resisting. He’s persistent.

“Min, look at me. Please.” _Dammit._ She lifts her head just a little and he looks concerned, tired, frustrated, and devastatingly in love all at once. And now she’s mad at her inability to hold onto her anger. He sighs. “This can’t be about that girl. We both know this isn’t. So tell me what this _is_ about.”

It’s not about the tripping model. But she’s not sure what it is about, exactly. Maybe it’s about how for every handful of good days there’s at least one really bad one. It could be about how today marked the first time she’d ever questioned her competence as a doctor…and her faltering confidence in that one constant shook her confidence in everything else. The girl _was_ gorgeous and her gaze definitely lingered throughout her fumbling apology. A voice inside told her that this girl wasn’t necessarily prettier than her, but she had been wrong about some many things today. That voice might have been wrong about this, too.

She hadn’t realized that she had said all this out loud until she was sobbing and he was rocking her gently.

* * *

69 days left. They both wake up after a long night and have a laugh at that. They may be successful doctors, but they’re also human and dammit, it’s _funny_. This day is much better than the one before.

* * *

She’ll be back in 43 days. Then these late night on-call shifts will be much more bearable.

And then maybe he won’t feel quite as decimated after experiencing such a difficult delivery. Things are far less bleak when she’s rubbing his back and reassuring him that he’s a great doctor and that these things happen, no matter how careful he is. Everyone is as fine as they're going to be tonight, he knows that. But he just needs her confirmation, her optimism.

There was a time when he balked at the idea of ever relying on somebody that much. Now it’s so deeply imbedded in him that he isn’t sure how he ever soldiered on without it.

* * *

She only has fifteen days left and all she can focus on is rocking the ever-loving crap out of them.

This level of focus, the kind she had whenever she had a scalpel in her hand, had bled into her life so thoroughly since coming to Stanford that she dared _anyone_ to get in her way.

She thinks about Danny briefly and it her heart does skip for a moment, then she’s back at it. She can moon later. Right now, it’s time to go to work.

* * *

He’s neck deep in patients when Morgan reminds him that his ‘Dr. L’ would be back in six days.

He beams, then plows through each file with a vigor reminiscent of his earlier glory days. He’ll be ready for her.

* * *

It’s very strange how quickly this chapter of her life will be officially closed once she steps on the plane in two days.

And she’s ready to see her co-workers and beyond ready to see her Danny, but there’s this niggling feeling that tells her that this is just the beginning. The possibilities that she marveled over before – the ones that involved cameras from Bravo and a line of designer lab coats – were now replaced with actual possibilities. She could get scooped up by an even bigger practice, or start her own, or be the next Jean. The life she was returning to now felt so temporary, and any moment after that realization was either prime for much celebration or a string of stress barfs. She wasn’t sure.

The only thing she was sure of was Danny. He was now her other constant.

* * *

The airport felt so much brighter. The air still smelled fairly terrible, but he couldn’t be convinced of a more beautiful place at the moment.

Mindy’s going to descend on that downward escalator a new woman, and he was ready for that. They would need a moment to readjust, but he was ready for the transition. He could hear the change in her voice already when she spoke about her plans for the practice and St. Brendan’s. The passion in her voice, the determination…she couldn’t be stopped and he loved it.

Danny also knows that this is going to lead to a change in narrative for her, for the both of him…and he's fine with whatever’s in store for them both. Ma’s not alone anymore (blech, but…good) and there were plenty of up-and-coming doctors who would be willing to buy them out, if needed. He’s only ever known New York, and he was beginning to think that that wasn’t something to necessarily boast about. Mindy was one of the newest, freshest possibilities he’d ever encountered and that turned out wonderfully. He’d never consider taking on a big change on his own, but he wasn’t on his own anymore. The thought made him boyishly happy.

Plus…he’d already proven hand over fist that he was one of the best doctors in New York. Maybe it was time to conquer another city.

But now’s not the time to think about that. She’s coming down the escalator and she looks utterly radiant. Now they’re both beaming. Her feet have barely touched the ground before they’re pushing kids and elderly out of the way to reach each other. When they’re finally clutched and kissing they both conclude in unison that their surroundings are just for now. Forever is in each other. This – this new life – begins now.

Day One.


End file.
